


A Study in Satin

by fearfully_beautifully_made



Series: A Study in Pants [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John, Chair Sex, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Lace, M/M, Panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Stockings, Strip Tease, Top Sherlock, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7507273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearfully_beautifully_made/pseuds/fearfully_beautifully_made
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's been away on a case and John missed him terribly.  On the day Sherlock is meant to arrive back home, John finds a package on his doorstep from Sherlock.  In his travels, Sherlock had come across some panties that he thinks are perfect for John, John agrees.</p>
<p>This work is in my "A Study in Pants" series, but there's no reason you can't read this one if you haven't read the other three.  They're all the same universe but all you have to know is that John loves Sherlock, Sherlock loves John, and sometimes they like to wear lace panties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Satin

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings dearest readers,
> 
> I wrote this smutty, fluffy little fic as a palate cleanser of sorts because the longer fic I am working on has some pretty heavy parts and everything was just feeling so dark over there. (To anyone reading those other fics: I am working on them, I promise, new chapters will be up soon.) This one is just short and sweet, written because I needed Sherlock to tell John he loves him. haha! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one. :)  
> Blessings.

John hated it when Sherlock was away.  He wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Sherlock’s absence that distressed him so.  Perhaps it was simply a reminder of the time John had spent alone after Sherlock had jumped, or perhaps John had just forgotten how to be on his own without the detective for very long.  Or maybe he just got bored.  Whatever the case may be, John had spent the past week cranky and irritable, ready to shoot the walls himself while Sherlock had been away solving a case in Moscow for Mycroft.

The good news was that Sherlock was coming home today, he’d solved the case (brilliantly, of course) and he’d left about two hours ago which gave John another two hours to get dinner ready and get the flat tidied up.  He was whistling a merry tune and had a spring in his step on his walk home from the clinic.  There had been several odd glances in his direction from people who passed him on the sidewalk, but John had nodded cheerfully at them and continued on his way.  Nothing could weigh down the lightness he felt in his entire being today.

When he arrived at the steps of 221 Baker St., he found a brown parcel by the door with his name on it.  He bent to pick it up and brought it inside with him.  Once he was inside, he grabbed a knife from the kitchen and sliced along the tape closing the box; opening the flaps, John was met by an overabundance of tissue paper with a note card balanced on top.  He opened the note card and was surprised to find Sherlock’s handwriting.  

_John, I found these at a little shop in Moscow while I was on the case.  They made me think of you.  If they are too much, don’t wear them and we’ll never speak of them again.  I’ll see you soon. - SH_

Curious, John pulled apart the tissue paper to see what Sherlock could have found for him that he wasn’t sure John would like.  Sherlock, while he was terrible about remembering anniversaries or birthdays (also Christmas), was surprisingly thoughtful when it came to gift giving.  John came home a few times a month to find small gifts that Sherlock had purchased for him simply because whatever it was had made him think of John or because it was something that he thought John needed (or wanted) but wouldn’t buy for himself.  John loved receiving presents.  In truth, this may have been another underlying cause of the gift giving because John instantly perked up when he was handed a box and Sherlock really did like to make John happy.  It was another considerable perk of dating a genius, Sherlock was exceptional at picking things John really wanted (even if John hadn’t known it himself).

So, it was with some trepidation that John peeled the tissue paper back to reveal smooth, black, incredibly expensive looking fabric.  He couldn’t resist stroking his fingers along the soft fabric, a thrill of anticipation racing up his spine.  The first thing he pulled out was a pair of black satin panties trimmed with black lace; they were rather modest in the front, smooth with two sheer lines of lace at the hips and two tiny black bows sewn on at the top.  But the back, well the back was anything but modest.  They were mostly open in the back, framed with lace and with a bow sewn into the lace trimming the top; John was sure that the majority of his buttocks would be on display when he wore these.  

John felt his cock give a twitch of interest at the thought of how easy it would be to wear these panties while Sherlock fucked him.  He could imagine it without any difficulty; kneeling on the bed or bent over the table, his legs spread to allow Sherlock access to his hole, his balls and cock cradled tightly by the fabric of the panities.

John swallowed and set the panties aside to see what else was in the box.  Next he pulled out a pair of black thigh high stockings; they were sheer and had lace that matched the trim on the panties at the top to hold them in place on John’s thighs.  They were smooth and silky and John could resist bringing the fabric up to rub along his cheek.  Although John had never tried wearing anything like these, the thought was immensely appealing.

The last thing he pulled out of the box was a black satin dressing gown, rather shorter than any dressing gown John had ever owned.  It too was trimmed with black lace along the opening and along the hem at the bottom.  He ran his fingers lightly over the fabric and immediately wanted to put it on.

With a fizzle of unbridled glee, John gathered the items up and took them to the bathroom with him and stripped out of his clothes.  He pulled the panties on first.  They fit like they’d been made for him, hugging his cock and balls to his body, stretching across the tops of his buttocks, framing a generous portion of his bottom below the bit of fabric.  John couldn’t help running his hands along the smooth fabric in front before rubbing his fingers lightly along the sheer lace over his hip bones; his cock now more than a little interested.  

Next, John rolled on the stockings.  They felt positively sinful, they clung to his skin and John couldn’t resist turning this way and that to try and see himself completely in their full length bathroom mirror.  The stocking complimented the panties perfectly, leaving about four inches of his pale flesh on display between the two.  John was rather tempted to have a quick wank right now.  

He was deterred from such an act, however, because in his twisting and turning he'd realized there was just one problem.  While the hair on John’s legs was rather sparse, he still had too much leg hair for the stockings to be comfortable; it created a strange sort of friction that John wasn't sure he would be able to stand for an extended period of time.  

It didn’t require much thought really; he peeled the stockings back off, being careful not to snag them, and pulled the panties back down as well.  Grabbing his razor, John climbed into the shower and set to work.  He shaved his legs (only nicking himself once, which he thought was an impressive feat) before deciding he might as well shave everything else while he was at it.  How much better would the soft satin of those delicious panties feel against bare skin?

When he was done, he climbed back out of the shower and put the panties on, revelling in how much more sensitive his skin felt.  The smooth, cool fabric against his skin made John shudder slightly; his cock giving a twitch of anticipation.  It was like he was a bloody teenager again.

He drew the stockings up his legs once more, making sure they were perfectly smoothed out and that the tiny bows were situated exactly in the center of his thighs.  Then he pulled the dressing gown on, it barely covered his arse but gave the illusion of a bit more modesty than he had otherwise.

He smoothed the hands down the front and looked into the mirror, his skin was already flushed, his pupils already a bit more dilated than usual.  He stroked two fingers teasingly along his satin covered cock, letting out a soft sigh at the contact.

“JOHN!!”

John turned his head toward the bathroom door, startled.  It couldn’t have been two hours already, could it?  He opened the door and moved toward the living room, “Sherlock?”

When he walked around the corner Sherlock was coming out of the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks, staring at John.  His eyes raked up John’s body and he let out a sigh, whispering John’s name like it was a something sacred.  

“Hi.” John said with a smile, crossing the distance between them in two steps and wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s neck before pulling his mouth down to his own.  Sherlock seemed startled for a moment as his body froze against John’s before he relaxed and his body melded to John’s, his arms wrapping around John’s back as his hands wandered along John’s satin covered body.  Sherlock slipped his tongue past John's lips and rubbed it along John's before rediscovering every inch of John's mouth.  He kissed John with the fervor of a starving man attacking a feast.

John groaned and pressed his body into Sherlock's, rocking his hips gently and grinding his ridiculously hard cock against Sherlock's thigh.  Sherlock moaned into his mouth, his hands roaming down John's back to cup his arse through the dressing gown and draw him even further into his body. 

Eventually, when John was starting to feel light-headed, Sherlock pulled his mouth away, “You look stunning.” he murmured, his hands sliding down to slip under the hem of the robe.

John slapped his hand away and pulled back, “Not yet.” John said.  “Go sit in your chair and wait for me.  There’s one thing we'll definitely be needing before we get underway.”

Sherlock groaned and dove back in for another kiss, his hands sliding around to grip John’s hips through the fabric of the dressing gown as though he were afraid John was going to disappear.  He didn’t pull back until they were both gasping for breath.  “In your chair.” John said with a pointed look in that direction.  “I’ll be right back.”

Sherlock pressed his lips to John’s once more, as though he couldn’t bear not to, then moved in the direction of his chair.  He sat down and crossed his legs; with a nod, John moved to their bedroom.  He grabbed the lube and made his way back to the living room, setting the lube on the table before moving to straddle Sherlock’s legs.

“How was your flight?” he asked, rubbing his panty-covered erection against Sherlock’s trouser covered erection teasingly.

Sherlock groaned and leaned his head back against the chair to take in John’s appearance more fully.  “Painstakingly tedious.” he said.  His hands slid up John’s stocking covered thighs and stopped to toy with the lace.  “I couldn’t stop imagining you in these stockings.”  His hands continued their journey upward, slipping under John’s robe and rubbing at his hip bones through the fabric before his hands slid back and he cupped John’s arse in his palms, “Fuck.” he groaned.  “Or these panties.”

Exhibiting more self-control than John had previously been under the impression Sherlock Holmes had at his disposal, Sherlock gave John’s arse one more squeeze and slid his hands straight down the backs of his thighs.  John felt his breath catch as Sherlock’s long fingers wrapped around the insides of his thighs and ghosted a touch along his aching balls.  But they didn’t remain there, they continued to slide down until they reached the lace once more.  

Sherlock dipped the tips his fingers inside of lace and it felt to John as though he were touching a far more erogenous zone than his thighs.  John groaned and he reached forward to brace his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders, his head falling back as Sherlock continued to tease the flesh just beneath the tops of his stockings.

A moment later Sherlock leaned forward a bit and sucked at John’s nipple through the fabric of his dressing gown.  Apparently they, like other parts of John’s anatomy, were rather erect because Sherlock zeroed in on them with expert precision, biting down and causing John to release a breathy moan he might have been ashamed of if he wasn’t in such a lust filled haze.  His fingers slid from Sherlock’s shoulders and up into his riotous curls, his fingers scraping against his scalp when Sherlock sucked and flicked his tongue against John’s nipple simultaneously.

Sherlock groaned, sending vibrations through John’s nipple and John thought for one equally incredible and terrifying moment that he was going to come in his pants without having any important part of his anatomy touched at all.  He gasped and tugged Sherlock’s head back.  “Fuck.” he said panting.

Sherlock grinned up at him, “I’m half tempted to just make you come without touching you at all.  That was surprisingly easy.”

“Don’t you dare.” John said sternly.  “These are fuck me panties and you know it.”

Sherlock’s hands slipped back to grope at John’s arse once more, “Mmmmh.  Yes, I do know it.”  His hands slid along the divide between John’s buttocks but didn’t venture in.

John groaned, “Sherlock, please.”

Rather than giving him what he wanted, Sherlock’s hands came away completely.  John whimpered at the loss.  Sherlock leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.  “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving your arse alone for long.” he murmured, his lips brushing tantalizingly along John’s.  His hands slid down the opening of John’s robe until they reached the belt and he deftly untied it, letting the belt drop to his sides and the front fall open.  

Sherlock leaned away from John and looked at him; letting his eyes rove slowly down his body and take in every inch of him.  “Stand up.” he said softly, but in a tone that absolutely brooked no argument.

John groaned but did as he was bid, standing on legs that felt as wobbly as jelly.  Sherlock leaned back in the chair, “Turn around.” he said.

John obeyed once again but turned to look at Sherlock over his shoulder, dipping said shoulder and letting his robe slip off a bit as he did.

“Yes.” Sherlock hissed and while John may not possess the deductive genius of Sherlock Holmes, he could deduce exactly what Sherlock wanted in this moment.  He took the robe off as slowly as he could possibly manage; sliding the fabric down his other shoulder and catching it at his elbows as he did, revealing his shoulder blades and the top portion of his spine.  Sherlock pressed his fingers together under his chin in an obvious attempt to appear calm and collected, but John wasn’t fooled; the man was all but squirming in his seat.

He lowered his arms slowly, letting the robe slip further and further down until it his entire back was exposed, and only his bum was left covered.  Sherlock licked his lips and John let one arm slide completely out of the sleeve, feeling the fabric slide across his buttocks, revealing his panties and subsequently a fair portion of his bare arse to Sherlock's gaze.

He let the robe fall to the floor and watched in rapt anticipation as Sherlock took in every minute detail.  After a breathless moment, Sherlock said, “Come here.”

John turned and walked back to him, fully prepared to straddle Sherlock’s thighs once more, but Sherlock stopped him again before he could manage it.  “Turn around.”

John groaned and obliged.

When he’d turned to face the living room once more Sherlock rubbed his hands over the twin globes of John's buttocks before saying, “Bend over.”

A flush of embarrassment rose to his cheeks as he imagined the view he’d be giving Sherlock; bent over, arse in the air, legs spread just a bit to maintain his balance, his hole wantonly on display, his cock and balls hanging heavily in their fabric cradle.

He felt the woosh of air, then heard the clap of flesh on flesh before he felt the sting and realized Sherlock had spanked him.

“Do not make you tell me again.” Sherlock warned as he slapped John's other cheek, causing John's hips to jerk forward and his cock to leak into his panties, “Or you’ll be bending over to get a spanking like a naughty little boy instead of getting fucked.”

John groaned and hastened to obey, feeling his cock twitch at Sherlock’s words and at the threat that John wasn’t sure was quite as much of a deterrent as it should be.  He spread his legs a bit and placed his palms on the floor, steadying himself.  He felt wanton and completely exposed and he loved every moment of it.

“That’s much better.” Sherlock said rubbing his hands over the spots he’d swatted; no doubt he was rubbing over the handprints he'd left if the stinging in John’s rump was anything to go by.  Sherlock massaged the twin globes of John’s arse in his hands for a few more minutes before prying his buttocks apart with his thumbs.  He then ceased all movement and John blushed as his cock throbbed and dribbled more precome into the panties at the thought of Sherlock examining his newly revealed flesh so intently, as though he were reacquainted himself with an old friend.  He unconsciously spread his legs a bit further to give Sherlock a better view.  

John felt the ghost of breath across his hole right before Sherlock’s tongue descended on his puckered entrance, licking at him softly, tenderly for a few moments, seemingly just feeling that tightly furled ring of muscle with his tongue.  He continued on like this, interspersing his gentle licks with soft kisses until John was squirming and fighting the impulse to press his arse back on Sherlock's face.  As he always did, Sherlock knew just how far he could push John before the tension became unbearable and he began licking with more pressure, applying firm swipes of his tongue that started at John’s perineum and moved all the way up to his tailbone.  

John was panting by the time that perfect tongue made it’s way back to his puckered entrance to stay and began to lick in circles around it.  Sherlock pressed more firmly at the apex of his entrance with every pass and John thought he might have gone mad with lust by the time Sherlock finally pressed the tip of his tongue inside of him.  

John was moaning and all but writhing at this point, completely incapable of forming any words whatsoever.  Sherlock continued relentlessly fucking him with his tongue, keeping his buttocks spread with his thumbs and thrusting his tongue in and out of John’s hole until it had loosened significantly and John was crying out hoarsely with every thrust.  

Sherlock’s face pulled away and John felt completely bereft for a moment before one the thumbs, which had been holding his buttocks apart, slipped inside of him and began stroking along his inner walls.  “Sherlock.” he gasped, “Please.”

Sherlock pressed a kiss to his right buttock and his hand was gone, John felt like weeping at its departure.  Something he’d done must have signaled his distress because Sherlock was hushing him softly and guiding John to straighten up before turning him and laying John face down, bottom up across his thighs.  John groaned at the complete openness of this position, Sherlock's thigh pressed into his abdomen and forced his arse up in the air, putting John's spit slicked hole on display.

Sherlock rubbed his hand over John's buttocks and John couldn't help but be reminded of the warning smacks he'd received earlier.  His cock twitched at the thought of laying across Sherlock's lap as he was spanked, rutting against Sherlock's thigh until he came.  Sherlock chuckled, a dark sound that made John shudder, "Someday." he said, giving John's arse a playful swat.

John groaned as Sherlock's left hand pried his buttocks apart once more as he dribbled lube straight over John's hole.  John gasped and Sherlock's right index finger began to rub the lube in around John's hole.  "I've missed this." Sherlock said, his voice soft and rumbling as he slowly pressed one finger into John's puckered entrance.  "The way your little hole stretches around my finger to make room for me; always so eager, always so tight."  He began to thrust his finger in and out of John before adding a bit more lube before inserting a second. 

Sherlock prepared him slowly and thoroughly, as though he were simply enjoying the feeling of John’s anus clenching and relaxing around his fingers.  Stretching him out bit by bit until whenever Sherlock withdrew his fingers completely, John’s hole fluttered closed a bit more slowly.  By the time he’d finally finished, John was sobbing on every thrust, his painfully hard cock grinding against Sherlock's thigh and pushing him closer and closer to the edge.  

Just when John thought he wasn't going to be able to take any more, Sherlock removed his fingers once more and said "Alright, stand back up for me."  With Sherlock's help John managed it.  He glanced down at the front of his body, his cock had tented the front of the panties obscenely and a wet spot had formed in the front.  With a grin up at him, Sherlock took hold of John's hips and leaned forward to lick at the dark patch of fabric right over the head of John's cock.

John groaned and his hips attempted to thrust into Sherlock's mouth but he was holding John's hips in a vice-like grip, not allowing him the slightest bit of movement as he sucked teasingly at the head of John's cock through his panties.  John's hands dropped to Sherlock's shoulders to steady himself.

After a moment Sherlock pulled back, ”Turn back around."  John obeyed and heard Sherlock undoing the zip on his trousers before he was being guided backwards once more; "Legs in the chair," Sherlock said, "Straddle my hips but stay faced away from me so I can look at your stunning arse."

John nodded and shakily situated his legs on either side of Sherlock in the chair, framing Sherlock’s narrow hips with his calves.  “That’s so good.  So perfect, love.” Sherlock murmured encouragingly as he ran his hands up John's stocking covered calfs and thighs, some far off place in John’s mind sang with pleasure at the encouragement and the endearment.  

  
John braced his hands on Sherlock’s thighs and Sherlock stopped stroking John's stocking covered flesh so one hand could spread John’s buttocks whilst the other guided the head of his cock to John’s hole.  John practically stopped breathing at how perfect it felt to have Sherlock's cock presses against him, Sherlock hadn't been the only one to miss this sort of intimacy.  "Fuck, Sherlock." John breathed, "Please.  I need you."

Sherlock groaned and he pressed forward slightly, when the head of Sherlock’s cock was past John’s rim he took hold of John’s hips once more and held him in place.  John groaned, shaking as he fought to control his body and keep himself from breaking Sherlock's hold on his hips and sinking down on Sherlock's cock in a matter of seconds.  Sherlock exhaled shakily behind him before allowing John to slowly start to sink down on his cock.  John was quite certain his hips would have bruises tomorrow from how hard Sherlock was gripping them and the stretch burned a little bit but it felt magnificent and John threw his head back and keened at the sensation.

“That’s it.” Sherlock murmured encouragingly, “Nice and slow, take all of me.  Fuck John, I forgot how perfect you feel stretched around my cock, how hot you are, how tight you are, how wet I’ve made you.”

John whimpered, wanting nothing more than to press down on Sherlock’s cock and take him all at once.  He wanted to ride Sherlock hard and fast until they were both coming.

“I know what you want.” Sherlock murmured.  “But you have to be patient.”

John groaned, letting his head fall forward in acquiescence as Sherlock maintained his grip on John's hips and control of the torturously slow descent.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, John felt his bottom come to rest against Sherlock’s thighs.  “Yes!” John panted.  “Fuck, yes.” he couldn’t help circling his hips on Sherlock’s cock and seeking out that tiny bundle of nerves inside him.  

The grip Sherlock had on his hips lessened until he was merely supporting John in his search.  “That’s right.” Sherlock murmured.  “Fuck yourself on my hard prick.”

John groaned at finally being given permission to do something and he pulled up off of Sherlock’s cock and slid back down, starting off slowly enough, savouring the way Sherlock’s breaths had started to come more quickly, the way his hips gave small abortive thrusts every time John squeezed down on his cock ever so slightly.  He leaned forward slightly to relieve some of the pressure on his thighs, knowing he was going to regret this later when they were aching like he’d run a fucking marathon, but not caring.  That was when he found his prostate.  He gasped and his hips started to pump harder, right at the same angle, fucking himself on Sherlock’s cock and pressing it against that bundle of nerves that lit up John’s entire body like a Christmas tree.  

“Yes.” Sherlock groaned, rubbing his hands along John’s stocking covered calves and thighs.  “That’s it.  That’s amazing.”  His hands slid up to cup John’s buttocks.  “Are you going to come for me, John?  Are you going to cover these perfect panties in your come?”

John groaned and rocked himself harder on Sherlock’s cock, gasping for breath as his eyes started to roll back in his head, “That’s it.  I can feel your hole starting to clench around my cock.” Sherlock said with a moan, "It's already starting to flutter around me, trying to milk me dry."  He pulled John back so his back was pressed firmly against Sherlock’s chest.  He slid his hands around John’s chest and pinched his nipples.  John’s entire body jerked and Sherlock’s left arm slid up across John's chest, holding him in place as hips snapped up into John’s body.

“That’s right.” he said as John shuddered, he slid one hand down to cup John’s hard and leaking cock through the panties.  John keened and rutted against Sherlock’s palm desperately as Sherlock's hips snapped up hard into his body.  “Fuck, you’re perfect.  Come for me, John.”

And John came, and came, his body riding out wave after wave of pleasure as he shuddered and his muscles clenched rhythmically around Sherlock’s cock.  Sherlock groaned out John’s name and followed him over the edge, shooting his come into John hole and making John’s cock spurt weakly a few more times in sympathy.

He tipped forward a bit to relieve the pressure on his thigh muscles and let his head hang forward as he caught his breath, his palms pressed against Sherlock’s thighs once more to keep himself balanced.  After a moment, no where near long enough for John’s taste, Sherlock pressed kisses to the back of John’s neck and trailed them down John's spine as far as he could before he said, “You have to get up.  Your knees are going to lock up if you stay like this.”

John groaned but forced himself to unfold his legs from the chair.  Sherlock wasn’t wrong, his knees already felt tingly and his thighs and hamstrings were burning.  Sherlock helped him into a standing position and ushered him to the bedroom.

With soft kisses he laid John out of the bed and pulled his come soaked panties down his legs before pressing one more soft kiss to John’s lips and murmuring, “I’ll be right back.  Don’t sleep.”

John mumbled something unintelligible but Sherlock must have taken it for affirmation because with a grin he left the room and fetched a flannel.  John was awake when he got back, but only just.  

Sherlock cleaned him up before rolling John’s stockings down his legs, pressing kisses every few inches to the skin he bared.    

John sighed contentedly and Sherlock grinned up at him before stripping out of his own clothing and climbing into bed next to John, pulling the covers up with him as he did.  He propped himself up on his arm and stroked his fingers along John’s ears, and cheeks, and nose before running them through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp.  He then proceeded to pepper soft kisses along John’s forehead, cheeks, and nose while John hummed happily.  “I missed you.” Sherlock said softly in between kisses.

“I missed you, too.” John replied, tipping his chin up so Sherlock’s lips fell on his.  

Sherlock placed a few sweet pecks to his lips before pressing his lips to John’s chin and murmuring, “Is it possible to love you more now than when I left?”

“Hmmm.” John hummed thoughtfully, “I’m not sure.”  He grinned cheekily at Sherlock, “You were awfully in love with me when you left.”

Sherlock chuckled and pressed his lips to John’s once more, “Well, I love you.  In case you were worried I’d forgotten it in my absence.”

“I love you, too.  And no matter how long your absence is, I'll never forget it.” 


End file.
